Page 1 of Shuttered Hearts

prologue

QUINN

I liftthe camera to my eye, capturing the man in front of me, dressed in a suit of armor, down on one knee, proposing to a woman dressed like she’s living in the Renaissance era.

It’s not my typical subject matter, but it’s still a moment worth capturing. And it’ll feel good to offer this couple some professional pictures from this moment—one that is clearly making them quite happy.

Some people may find New York City too fast-paced and dirty, but nobody can deny it’s entertaining. No matter where you are in the city, you’re bound to see someone doing something unexpected—like this proposal.

I started this walk through Central Park looking for inspiration for my next assignment, and while this hadn’t been what I had in mind, it did bring me a brief moment of joy.

After getting the couple’s email address, I return to my walk but a sound to my right catches my attention.

A little girl, no older than five, runs full force toward a man, shouting, “Daddy!” at the top of her lungs. The man has thebiggest smile as he crouches down to catch her when she jumps into his arms.

I’m instantly taken back to similar moments in my childhood: running to greet my dad at the door when he got home from his shift at the firehouse, running to him after winning a volleyball game, even running to tattle on my older brother when he did something to annoy me. I was always running to my dad for everything—good or bad—in my life.

“Mommy!” the little girl’s excited voice pierces the air again, bringing me back to the present. As I turn, I see the girl’s mother with a radiant smile slowly waddling toward her family. Her hand resting on her baby bump, a gentle and tender expression of love and anticipation.

“You doing okay?” the man asks her.

“I’m wonderful,” she tells him, leaning up to kiss his cheek, her smile never leaving her face.

I’m not sure what causes me to do it, but I lift the camera to my eye and capture the moment.

I only take one photograph before turning away, unable to watch the mother with her daughter any longer.

I’m not a huge fan of thinking about my mother. She’s been a sore spot for me for the last ten years, and after what happened to me three years ago, I avoid thinking about her at all.

My phone ringing in my pocket makes me pause momentarily outside my apartment a few hours later. I pull it out to find my brother Caleb’s face smiling back at me.

“Hey!” I smile as I answer the phone, walking in the door and hanging my keys on the hook by the door. It’s not strange for my brother to call in the middle of the week, especially if he and Emily are on opposite shifts. And it always brightens my mood when we talk.

“Hey.” My brother’s deep, normally comforting, voice comes through the other end of the phone.

“What is it?” I ask, the smile falling from my face when I hear the strain there.

“Quinn, I think it’s time to come home.”

I’m frozen for a second before I’m able to respond. “Wh-What do you mean?”

“It’s Dad. The cancer’s back, and the prognosis isn’t good.”

My stomach drops, and I’m silent, unsure how to respond. Dad’s been in remission for almost three years now. I knew the chances of recurrence were pretty high, and it was honestly amazing Dad had even gone into remission in the first place.

These last three years have been a gift. I wanted to believe we were in the clear, but deep down I knew that wasn’t realistic.

My dad has always been my biggest supporter, pushing me to be the best version of myself, encouraging me to follow my dreams. I was never going to be ready for this call, but I thought I had more time. More time to figure outmy shit, so I could spend time with him at home in Ashford Falls—instead of avoiding it out of fear and shame, like I have for the past ten years.

Caleb continues when I don’t respond. “I know you’re probably about to hit the road again, and I understand if you can’t come home right away, but I don’t want you to miss out on spending time with him while we still can.”

“No, of course, I’ll be there.” My voice wavers. “It’s Dad.” I take a breath before continuing. “How much time are they saying?”

“They don’t know for sure, but maybe six months to a year.”

I give myself a minute, setting my camera down on the coffee table in the living room as I fall onto the couch. Tears are forming in my eyes, but I refuse to let myself cry right now. “Okay. It’s going to take me some time to get everything situated here, but I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

Caleb’s exhale is audible through the phone. I can practically see him, as if he were standing right in front of me instead ofhundreds of miles away, the way his shoulders relax as he finally releases the weight of the world.

---